


Meet Me Halfway

by Ethereal_Wishes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:05:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27360130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereal_Wishes/pseuds/Ethereal_Wishes
Summary: Princess Belle, of Avonlea, was destined to marry a prince she'd never met. The day before her wedding she learns he is deceased, and she'll be marrying his father instead.
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Comments: 85
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

Meet Me Halfway

Sir Maurice – Duke of Avonlea – had pledged his daughter, Belle, to be wed to King Raul's son, Neal, ever since she was born. The pair would wed on her eighteenth birthday. Belle French had never met Neal, but she had met his father – King Raul. He was a man with short graying hair and a stern countenance. He never smiled, and Belle was aware of the ruefulness always lurking within his soulful depths. When, Belle, had asked her father why Neal had never visited, Maurice had informed her he was a sickly child. Raul would often journey to Avonlea and converse kingly affairs with her father. He'd never spoken to her in passing, often pretending she was invisible whilst in her father's presence.

Belle inwardly dreaded the day she would have to leave Avonlea and become the wife of a man she'd never truly met. She'd filled her time with educating herself about kingdom affairs, leading up to that moment. She'd received an extensive education during her childhood, because she didn't intend to be an ignorant ruler. By the time her eighteenth birthday arrived, she assumed she would meet the prince she was destined to wed. She'd been mistaken when her father revealed that Prince Neal had died a few short years earlier of the bubonic plague. In fact, Raul's wife – Queen Milah had passed as well.

“I don't understand, Papa. What are you saying? I've been expecting to marry this prince my entire life, yet why am I just finding out he's deceased?” she queried, her mind buzzing with questions.

The duke exhaled sharply. "There will be a wedding, Belle. It just won't be to Prince Neal.”

“Then who!?” She demanded, sickness roiling in her gut.

Maurice swallowed hard, averting his gaze. "King Raul still intends to honor the marriage agreement we forged at your christening. You'll marry him instead. He's without an heir and needs a new queen to rule beside him.”

Belle's countenance fell at the mention of the callous, standoffish royal. “You can't be serious, Papa. That man has the personality of a dead fish,” she countered.

Maurice sighed, wrapping his arm around his daughter's delicate shoulders. “You don't know him like I do. I know he's twice your age, but he's an honorable man. He'll be a good husband to you, I have no doubt. Though you may find you have little in common, you'll have a comfortable life.”

Belle nodded. “I'll accept King Raul's proposal because it's the right move for both of our kingdoms. I never knew the prince, but I'd hoped to.”

Maurice smiled, pulling her close. “You make me proud, Belle. Tomorrow, Raul will arrive for the wedding celebrations, and then you'll be escorted back to Albannach.”

“Let it be as you say,” she consented, spending the rest of her evening being refitted for her wedding gown. When she was finally granted some solitude, she spent her time reading in a cozy nook in her personal library. She would dearly miss her castle, her father, her friends, including every other piece of herself she was leaving behind.

  
~X~

The day of the wedding left her stomach tied in knots. He'd met her at the altar, decorated in his kingly ensemble. The veil hid her rouge cheeks and lacquered lips. The first words they'd speak to each other would be their vows. She fought back the urge to tremble as she spoke the sacred vows pauper and prince had exchanged for ages. His eyes fixated themselves on her, studying, committing each detail to memory. She became enraptured by his eyes, the wind being knocked from her as he brushed his lips ever so slightly against hers. She blinked as the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. There wasn't time to contemplate what had just transpired, before she found herself being led by his arm to a carriage. Once the doors shut, she knew she'd never step foot in Avonlea again. A tear trekked down her cheek, and she couldn't stop the way her body trembled. The king gazed at her, his eyes filled with something unreadable.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered. “For ripping you away from everything,” he spoke – the sound of his lilting brogue filling the carriage, startling her.

“Pardon?” She spoke, startled by his phantom voice.

“The ripping. I'm sorry for ripping you away from your homeland, your friends, your father,” he paused. “The ripping hasn't stopped though, the seam hasn't been mended.”

“Why do you speak in riddles, your highness?” She addressed him formally, trying to wrap her mind around his enigma.

He smirked at her response. “I'm used to the ripping. My son was ripped away by the plague, my wife, my subjects, my countrymen. There's so much blood it would flood the towns. I need the ripping to stop.”

His countenance fell, revealing those same sad eyes she vaguely remembered during her girlhood. She longed to reach out to him but wasn't sure if it was appropriate, but she supposed it mattered little because it was their wedding night. Soon his hands would be anywhere they wished, marking her as his prize.

Despite her hesitation, she reached out to him, grasping his hand in her own, and testing the weight of it in her palm. He stiffened, and she assumed he wasn't used to this kind of touch, but she continued, stroking his fingers, admiring his beautiful, weathered hands. “You have beautiful hands, you know?”

He scoffed, amused. “There's nothing beautiful about me, princess. The years have worn me away, until I'm a shell of the man I used to be.”

“Your highness, I believe we're all layered. And maybe the years have been unkind.” She continued her gentle ministrations over his digits. “But my father said you were a good man, and I don't doubt him at all.”

He interlaced their fingers, startling her. Her breath hitched in her throat as he began making obsolete patterns on her skin. “These worn, despicable hands have killed men, princess. Yet, you touch me without revulsion.”

Belle dared a glance into his eyes. “I'm aware the cost of keeping a kingdom, securing your reign for centuries to come. It is built upon blood and alliances. And it's the reason we're sitting here in this carriage. I wasn't supposed to marry you, and you weren't supposed to marry me. However it's the way fate destined it to be – You and I, sitting here in this carriage, hand in hand.”

“Now who speaks in riddles, princess?” His age lines crinkled into a smile, as he drew her knuckle to his lips, kissing it reverently.

Belle's breath hitched in her throat. “Tonight, I apologize for my inexperience.”

The king gazed at her, full of wonder and awe. “And I apologize for mine, it has been many years since a woman has warmed my bed,” he admitted, sending a shiver down her spine.

He gathered her hands in his own, gazing into her cerulean depths – his eyes filled with so much sincerity, it wrenched her heart. “I would never hurt you, princess, and tonight I will treat you as a delicate flower. It will be a new journey for us both, this union. I'm sorry I'm not young or handsome.”

“I think you're handsome though.” She brushed prettily at his statement, and he half smiled. He couldn't help but think of her as his delicate flower, one he hoped wouldn't wither at his touch.

“And twice your age,” he teased, planting a sensual kiss against the underside of her wrist. She shuddered at the contact, aware their hands were still connected.

“38,” she answered coyly.

“39,” he corrected. “Today is my birthday.”

Belle blinked owlishly at his statement. “Why ever did you choose to wed on your birthday?”

The king shrugged. “To make a fonder memory. My birthday isn't exactly a joyous occasion.”

Before she could inquire further, the carriage came to a screeching halt. Screams erupted from the outside, and her eyes grew wide as she observed him brandish his sword. “Stay in the carriage, and whatever you do, don't leave. I shall return,” he commanded swinging open the door. He shut it, and she bolted it, sinking down – muffling her ears to drown out the screams coming from the outside. She wasn't sure if it had been hours or days, but the screams finally ceased and all was quiet. She stayed frozen in the carriage, wondering if he was dead. Suddenly the door swung open, revealing his cloaked form.

“Bandits, bloody bastards killed my driver and a few guards, but we got them rounded up,” he cursed, and Belle's face paled when she noticed the blood drenching his tunic.

“Are you hurt?” She inquired, her ears beginning to ring. He reached for her, bracing her fall. He pulled her onto his lap, commanding his men to make haste. He knew she'd only fainted. She was too delicate for him, and he secretly feared he would crush her with the weight of his sins. An innocent lamb caught in the lion's den.

She awoke, lying in his arms. She blinked, noticing a far away look in his eyes. The carriage was dark, and she assumed the sun had already set. She admired his beautiful, careworn face. She absentmindedly reached up to caress his jawline. He shuddered, gazing down at his new bride, unused to such a reverent touch.

“What are you doing, princess?” he mumbled, taking her hand and delicately kissing the underside of her wrist.

“I was hoping to, get a feel of what my new husband's skin felt like,” she spoke, blushing deeply from her admittance.

He gently brushed chestnut locks from her eyes. “Oh how delicate you are, wife. So innocent and fair. What have I done to deserve such a gift?”

Feeling bold, Belle raised up to capture his lips in an inexperienced kiss. The one they'd shared back at the ceremony was brief, but this time, she allowed herself to truly explore the outline of his lips – truly taste him. He kissed her back fervently, cradling her face in his hands. She'd shifted her position and was now sitting on his lap. He nipped lightly at her lower lip, and she carded her fingers through his soft mane.

He gripped her hips gently, securing her onto his lap. The kiss made her feel pleasantly warm, and she ground her hips into him, causing him to jerk forward. He broke the kiss, a predatory look in his eyes. “Be careful, little lamb, not to awaken the lion. The beast within has quite an appetite,” he warned.

Belle experimentally ground her hips into him again, causing his grip on her to tighten. She flushed deeply, her rosy cheeks eclipsed within the darkness of the carriage. His gaze grew intense, and he bruised her rosebud mouth with his lion teeth. Tongues and teeth clashed messily together, battling for dominance. The kiss was short lived for the carriage had came to a halt.

“We are here, my delicate bloom,” He purred deliciously in her ear, causing her entire body to tremble in the most pleasant of places. “We are in Albannach.”


	2. Chapter 2

Upon their arrival, Belle found herself being escorted away by an entourage of ladies, whose job was to make her ready for her night with the king. The way he'd kissed her set her entire soul ablaze. She wasn't sure if it was minutes or hours, but suddenly she found herself alone – wearing a royal blue chemise, standing in the middle of her new chamber. She was innately aware of the cool flagstone beneath her bare feet. She grasped the silk fabric of her gown, allowing it to whisper through her fingertips. The gown left little to the imagination, and she wondered how the king would react when he saw her, wearing so little. She instinctively reached up to cover her breasts when the knob turned.

King Raul opened the door, his jaw going slack when he caught a glimpse of her. She flushed deeply, standing in front of the roaring hearth. He approached her slowly, reaching out to touch a ringlet of her hair. “What a fair maiden you are, wife,” he whispered, his voice lowering an octave.

She reached for him, eager to be back in his arms as she had been in the carriage. He pulled her fully into his embrace, allowing his hands to splay against her backside. “So eager for me to touch you, to hold you, to make love to you,” he marveled, gazing into her brilliant blue orbs. She didn't answer, tipping her head up to kiss him again. Pleasant warmth churned in her belly as he kissed her deeply. He gently caressed her face, languidly dusting kisses down her jawline.

“Raul,” she exhaled his name breathlessly, a sacred prayer upon her lips.

He paused. “I like it when you say my name, wife. In this room, I don't want us to be monarchs, just lovers. I want to abandon everything on the other side of this door when we're together.”

She nodded. “Please, Raul, use my given name. I offer it freely to you.”

“Belle,” he spoke it reverently, sliding down her chemise to kiss her bare shoulder. “For so long this chamber has been empty, leaving me haunted with all of my painful memories,” he whispered against her skin.

“Tell me your memories, Raul, all of them,” She pleaded as he slid the gown over her bosom. The chill of the night air made her skin pebble. A low moan left her throat as his hot, wet mouth latched onto her nipple. He swirled his tongue around it, nearly making her weep with untold pleasure. He slid his right had up her gown, and she nearly jumped when his fingers made contact with her damp sex.

He released her nipple with a wet pop, wiping saliva on his nightshirt. “Tell me if the pleasure is too much,” he remarked, making her legs turn to jelly as he continued his intricate exploration of her nether regions, spreading her wet and heat with his nimble fingers.

“Tell me a memory,” she sighed pleasurably. “Tell me everything.”

He eased the chemise down her body, and she kicked it away. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he hoisted her into his arms. He deposited her gently onto the mounds of furs spread across the bed. “Does my fair bride really want to hear of my woes?”

Pain flushed within his sable depths, and Belle reached for him. “Yes, but now let me comfort you, let me fill this lonely ache within your heart.”

Raul bent down, claiming her lips in heated passion. Belle pawed at his nightshirt, longing for him to be free of it. He chuckled lightly against her lips at her impatience.

  
“Take that bloody thing off,” she huffed between kisses.

“Are you certain you wish to see my grotesque flesh?” he teased, yet Belle could sense the hurt behind his words.

“Please, you've seen all of me, now let me see all of you,” she requested, sitting up and reaching for the garment. His breath grew ragged as she tugged it over his head. She cast it aside, embracing him fully. She pressed her breast against his naked chest, making him hiss with pleasure. Her hands traced along his backside, halting when she made contact with the deep impressions.

“How-”

“I was flogged once, captured by the enemy,” he spoke quickly, his eyes growing despondent.

“May I see, Raul? Let me see your scars,” she whispered softly. He compliantly moved to lay on his stomach, secretly fearing her revulsion. He gasped when he felt the soft impression of her lips, tracing along each one. “You are so beautiful, husband,” she whispered ardently. He quickly moved, grabbing her and planting her underneath him. He watched her chest rise and fall, her eyes filled with such understanding, nary a hint of judgment.

“Belle, please, please let me make love to you,” he bent against the shell of her ear to whisper. His tone was full of desperation and longing. She compliantly opened for him, as he kicked away his breeches.

Belle gasped as his erection sprang free. “Will it fit?” she remarked shyly.

“Yes, sweetheart, your body will expand to my size, and I promise to go slow for you,” he interlaced their fingers, cradling himself between her thighs. He took her hand, guiding it to his erection. Belle experimentally traced her fingertips over its ridges and veins. His eyes grew dark from arousal as she continued her loving ministrations along his shaft.

“Belle, I'm going to enter you slowly before I start moving, I want you to get used to my size,” he said gently, inserting his tip precariously. Tears sprang to her eyes as she felt herself stretching – tight as he gently thrust once.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” he whispered, and she nodded, urging him to continue. He thrust again, filling her with himself completely. She gasped, feeling as if she'd been split in two. Her fingers clenched and clawed at his backside as he continued to shunt slowly against her hips. She cried out in ecstasy as he reached down to pinch her clit, sending her over the edge as his pace quickened.

“That's it, Belle, find your pleasure,” he rumbled in her ear, pounding into her core. He kissed her hard, capturing her cries of euphoria as her walls fluttered deliciously around him. She writhed beneath him as she rode out her pleasure. “How beautiful you are, writhing beneath me. Feels so good, you feel so good,” he mumbled, a guttural moan leaving his throat as she milked him of his release. She trembled as his seed filled her. He softened within her, and she instantly missed the sensation of her body cradling him as he gently rolled off of her. He momentarily left the bed, reaching for a cloth, and dampening it in a bucket of water.

“Here, let's get you cleaned up,” he said, wiping away any traces of his seed between her thighs. He handed her the cloth, and she gently cleaned him as well. He pulled the covers over them, pulling her against him.

“Did I hurt you?” He kissed her crown of hair, his eyes flashing with concern.

Belle shook her head. “At first it was unpleasant, but the more I became accustomed to the sensation of being filled by you, it became more pleasurable. Can we do it again sometimes?” she remarked sheepishly.

“Every night, if you wish it,” he chuckled, the lines along his face crinkling into a genuine smile. And Belle imagined he hadn't smiled so freely in a very long time.

“I would, now tell me about this room, tell me why it haunts you,” she probed, laying her head against his chest, listening for his heart.

“This was the first place I came when Neal died, I holed myself up in this room for weeks after his passing – a hollow shell of who I once was. Milah, well she died before, Neal, but her passing didn't effect me so deeply. We had a loveless marriage, and mostly a sexless one. She warmed our bed with her fair share of lovers, while I was out fighting wars. When she fell ill, she didn’t call for me, but her estranged lover,” he recounted, trepidation flashing within his eyes.

Belle reached up to brush graying locks from his eyes. “And since then, you've loved no one and no one has loved you?”

He nodded. “Precisely, and I don't expect you to love me either, Belle.”

The way he said it made her heart clench painfully. By looking into his eyes, she could tell he was a man who didn't simply wish to be revered but loved as well. She cupped his cheek with her left hand. “I could love you, Raul, truly love you, if you'll let me.”

Raul swallowed hard at her confession, dearly hoping it to be true. No one in his long life had ever truly loved him, besides his son. Dare he hope it was possible with Belle, or would she prove to grow tired of him as the seasons changed?

Instead of replying, he simply nodded, holding her close within the darkness – the glow of the firelight dancing upon their skin. And as they both drifted off – a piece of his damaged, battered heart was stoked back to life, ignited by his queen's promise to love him.


	3. Chapter 3

Belle opened her eyes, glancing at the snoozing monarch beside her. She observed the rhythm of his chest – rising and falling. She studied his features intently. Dozens of scars kissed his skin, and she wondered the tale behind each one. She snuggled closer to him, tucking herself beneath his chin. She blushed, feeling his hardened length pressing pleasantly against her abdomen. He stirred, but didn't awaken. Belle rubbed herself against him, attempting to get a reaction from him. His eyes shot open, a smile quirking at his lips as he gazed at her with fondness.

“Already attempting to rouse the beast so early?” he chuckled, kissing her sweetly.

He slid his hands down the contours of her body, eliciting a sweet sigh from her pretty throat. “Can't believe I woke up with an angel next to me this morning.”

Belle cupped his face in her hands. “I want to wake up to you every morning, just like this.”

He massaged her left breast languidly. “You will grow weary of me after awhile, princess.”

Belle frowned. “I'll be the judge of that, disagree at times I'm sure we will, but I don't plan on becoming weary of you as you say.”

“No one ever does, dearest, but it happens, so I plan to enjoy you while I have you,” he said, kissing her brow lovingly.

“Stop,” Belle said, placing her hand firmly against his chest. “Stop trying to make up my mind for me. I'm not a child, and I wish to take our union seriously. I want to know you, Raul, not just in your bed but your mind as well. I want us to have a true marriage.”

Tears misted behind his eyes at her declaration. “I expected you to resent marrying me – a man twice your age, instead of the prince you'd been promised to. It was selfish, I should have freed you to choose, choose someone closer to your age, more well suited for you.”

Belle clung to him. “The choice would have been made for me, even if you'd broken off the engagement. I'm glad it was you – a man that made me feel so secure and cherished on our first night together.”

She wrapped her arms around him, lacing their bodies together – like winding ivy. “I aim to make you feel the same, husband,” she confessed, tenderly dusting her fingertips over his ravaged backside.

He bruised her lips, wondering if his queen would be the one to tame his lion heart. Kisses turned into frenzied touches, leading to pleasant warmth which consumed the coals of his deadened heart in a blazing fury. “Oh, Belle,” he sighed her name as he sheathed himself within her warmth.

“Take your fill from me, my king,” she commanded as he rocked eagerly against her hips. As he made her his, there wasn't a time in his life he could recall a woman being so thrilled to be with him. He'd expected Belle to recoil at his touch, instead she'd sought him, pleaded for him to be inside of her – to become one with her in the most splendid of ways.

After their first bout of lovemaking, she'd sought him out twice more, until their stomachs grumbled with hunger. “Raul, should we have something to eat?” Belle jested at the sound of his angry esophagus.

“Breakfast is at eight, they will bring it when I send for it though. I told them I didn't wish to be disturbed on my wedding night or the morning after, but you've made me particularly ravenous this morning, wife,” he chuckled, his voice low and husky.

Belle grinned. “Do you usually have your breakfast alone?”

“Yes, I've taken my meals alone for several years now, I can arrange for us to have our meals together though, if you'd like,” he remarked, hopeful.

She reached out to grab his hand, twining their fingers together. “I would love that, Raul! I want to spend as much time together as possible, becoming friends, finding out what makes each other tick.”

Raul shook his head, rendered speechless by his young queen. “Never did I think I would be marrying my son's betrothed or that she would fancy me at that.”

“I don't want this marriage to be just about heirs and alliances, though it is. We don't have to be miserable if we don't choose to be. We could try and make each other happy,” Belle said, nearly moving him to tears.

“I would like that, sweetheart, truly, I would,” he remarked, caressing her cheek gently. They spent the rest of the day, lazing in bed – feeding each other morsels and drinking wine from golden chalices. It was blissful and it was heady. Raul's young bride made him feel like a youth again, and he was grateful for her enthusiasm and their shared wit.

“Belle, there's something I'd like to show you,” Raul told her later that afternoon. They'd dressed in their formal attire, and he'd led her on a tour of the castle – she'd insisted on it. The castle staff found the jovial king a peculiar sight, for they were used to his downcast eyes and foul moods. Today he was smiling from ear to ear, leading their new queen throughout the corridors. Belle and Raul didn't notice their stolen glances and blatant stares. They were too fixated on each other to care.

“Is this the room you wanted to show me?” Belle inquired, gesturing to the two ornate brass doors.

“Yes, there's a room in here I'm sure you'll be quite fond of. It's been here for generations, but I hardly ever find the time to make use of it,” he retorted. “Have a look,” he encouraged, placing her petite hand on the door handle.

Belle pushed the door open, gaping in amazement when she gazed upon the towering shelves, filled to the brim with an assortment of tomes. “Your library is astounding, Raul!” Belle gasped, childishly taking him by the hand – leading him to a shelf. He watched her gingerly touch the spines, glide her fingers over the smooth, velvet dust jackets.

“Raul, this place is spellbinding,” she sighed dreamily, turning to face him.

“Well, since you like it so much, it's all yours,” he said, tucking an errant curl behind her ear.

“Really? You're gifting me with a library!?” Belle stammered in amazement.

“Call it a wedding present, though it's only a partial one. Your father told about your affinity for books before we married. This place has always been here, but I arranged for more books to be delivered which might suit your tastes,” he added.

“When did my father tell you about my love for literature?” she inquired, intimately touched by his kind gesture.

“We've shared a few letters throughout the years. I suppose it started around a year after Neal's passing,” his gaze turned somber at the mention of his passing. “He'd sent me a gift and his condolences, but he'd also inquired about our nuptials. I had no other son to gift to you, and I suppose he wondered if I would sever our agreement,” he admitted.

“And what made you decide not to?” Belle queried – her heart burning with suspicion.

“I suppose it was your father. He painted quite a portrait of you in his letters. He boasted of your extensive education, thirst for knowledge, and how you portrayed wisdom beyond your years. I was intrigued, and my heart wouldn't let me say no,” he revealed.

Tears blurred her vision when the realization hit her. “My father, he said you were a good man and encouraged the union, but I had no idea he'd written to you. I suppose he was plotting something all along.”

Raul pulled her against his chest, cradling her gently against his lithe frame. “Perhaps he was plotting our happiness. He undoubtedly knew how broken I was, and I suppose believed you would help remedy that.”

“Papa, he knew. He knew this would be beneficial to the both of us,” she realized.

“That scoundrel,” Raul chortled lightly.

Belle smiled against his chest. “Who knew my father was such a delightful matchmaker.”


	4. Chapter 4

As the days steadily progressed into weeks, Raul and his fledgling queen settled into a comfortable routine. They would take their tea together every morning, and she insisted on sharing their chambers. His assertive bride always made her requests apparent, especially when it came to her unwavering sexual appetite. It seemed she was never sated, no matter how many times they came together. He relished granting her the control to dominate him in the most splendid of ways, which always left him longing for more. Their frequent coupling eventually afflicted, Belle, with violent rounds of morning sickness, signaling a deadened hope arise within him. The royal physician examined the queen, and the pregnancy was confirmed. The kingdom rejoiced with this bout of joyous news. It seemed since the passing of the prince and former queen, a bleak cloud had shrouded the kingdom.

“We should celebrate, hold an extravagant feast,” Raul had remarked boastfully one evening, twirling his precious beauty in his arms.

Belle giggled at his enthusiasm. “But I'm not even showing yet. There is still a span of seven months before the birth of our wee one.”

Raul shook his head. “I don't care, I wish to celebrate now. My heart has been revived! A new hope buds within your womb, wife. The world needs to hear of it!”

Belle chuckled, her hand gravitating to her flattened abdomen. “If that's how you feel, then I suppose I cannot deny you of this request.”

Raul cupped her face within his calloused hands, gazing lovingly in her oceanic depths. “You have given me a gift I truly don't deserve.”

“You deserve the world, my king, and so much more. I love you, Raul,” she declared, nearly moving him to tears. He dipped his head down to kiss her, pouring every emotion he felt into the kiss. Raul had never been one to openly display his emotions, but Belle's love had been a healing balm to his battered heart. The whole kingdom knew how much the king adored his beloved queen – his entire countenance illuminating anytime he gazed upon her.

The feast was arranged accordingly. Nobles and royalty from far and wide were expected to attend, including Belle's father – King Maurice. There was expected to be joyous revelry. Raul liked to keep his young bride hemmed in, close to his side. The morning before the feast, Belle had requested to venture into the village and purchase some extra tulle and garnishments for her evening gown. He had reluctantly agreed, sent his best guardsmen to accompany her.

When she hadn't returned in a timely manner, he'd became extremely concerned. He was about to go fetch her himself, but before he had time to vacate his castle, his royal adviser came bounding towards him.

“Jefferson, what is it? Why are your eyes so haunted?” Raul barked.

“Your Highness,” he swallowed hard. “There has been an accident, the queen, she rescued a peasant girl – a girl being cornered by a wolf. The wolf was about to strike the child, but the queen jumped in front of her. The wolf managed to slash her face, but one of your guards ran his blade through it before it could do any further damage. The queen has been taken to the healers, and she's in recovery.”

Raul shoved past Jefferson, bounding hard and fast to the healers’ quarters. Blood rushed in his ears as he met his guards at the door. “Where is she!? How is she!? Let me see her!” he demanded.

“The bleeding has been halted, but it's terrible, your grace, the wolf, it did a number on her.” His face grew ghastly pale. Raul shoved the guard aside, and barged through the door. Three healers stood over his wife, working meticulously. One turned to him with a blank stare.

“Your Highness, if you want us to save her, then you must go. We shall alert you accordingly, but we've given her a potion to ease her pain, that has sent her into a deep sleep,” A young woman, Dorothy spoke.

“But-”

“Please, your grace, let us do our work,” Dorothy pleaded, her eyes rimmed with trepidation.

Raul swallowed his pride, letting himself out of the room. He sent his guard away, brandishing his sword to guard the door himself – his most precious treasure behind it. He urged Jefferson to cancel the feast, but his adviser warned him of the political consequences of such an error. Instead, he'd begrudgingly agreed, consented for the festivities to continue – without his presence.  
The surgery had taken six agonizing hours. Dorothy had told him the baby was safe, which flooded him with relief. When he was permitted to see, Belle, a large bandage covered the right side of her face. He reached out to gently caress the unmarred side.

“It will be hours before she wakes, Your Highness,” Dorothy informed him.

Raul gave a solemn nod. “Thank you, for doing everything you could. I'll stay with her until she awakens. Post a new guard outside the door, and leave us. I'll send for you when she awakens,” he commanded.

“Yes, your Grace.” She bowed, letting herself out.

Raul grasped his wife's hand, brushing his lips against it. “Oh, my darling, Belle, your heart is so unadulterated and pure. I don't deserve the love you bestow upon me so freely. You were selfless today, and your sacrifice was not in vain. I'm grateful God saw fit to spare your life.”

When Belle did manage to awaken, she was disoriented and burning up with fever. “So many teeth, scraping against my skin,” she mumbled, opening her eyes to see her husband standing over her.

  
“Belle?” He spoke warily.

“The wolf! You're the wolf!” Belle screamed, thrashing in the bed.

“No! Belle! I'm not the wolf, it's me, Raul. I'm here, you were in an accident,” he reasoned with her, but she didn't recognize him. She just kept screaming.

“Go fetch the healers!” Raul commanded the guard.

Raul didn't want to frighten his beauty, so he tore his gaze away from her hunted eyes as the healers passed him. They quickly restrained her, pouring a tonic down her throat – sending her back into slumber.

“Don't worry, your highness. The queen has faced a very traumatic event today, and once awakening hallucinations aren't uncommon,” Dorothy reassured him.

“Please, just come find me when she's calmed, or if there have been any changes,” Raul told her before ripping himself away from her chambers. Raul's heart wrenched grievously, wounded by her horrific screams.

Two days passed before, Belle, awoke again. Though she didn't scream when she met his somber eyes for the second time, she looked right through him. When the bandage was finally removed permanently, the scar was deep and angry red. The attack had changed her, and his lovely queen no longer laughed or smiled within his presence. In fact, she would barely allow him to touch her, recoiling within herself. Instead she spent her days, locked away in her library – isolated from everything and everyone.

Raul had allotted his wife time and space, and though it had shattered him – he'd permitted her to sleep in her own quarters when she'd requested it. They hadn't spent a single night together since before the attack, and he inwardly ached for her presence so greatly that he was through with this invisible barrier which separated them.

He'd stood outside the library one evening, rapping his knuckle lightly against the door. “Belle, it's Raul. May I please come in, dearest?”

When she gave no answer, he sighed – pushing open the door. He found her sitting on the chaise – a chestnut curtain of hair concealing her ravaged cheek. “Belle?” He called her name gently. She gazed up at him, her visible eye going wide with panic.

“Raul, you shouldn't be here. You shouldn't want me, desire to see me like this. I'm wretched, I'm hideous,” she covered her face with her hands, drawing her legs up beneath herself.

Raul hesitantly approached her. “Belle, is this what this is about? You don't want me to see you because you believe I'll find you hideous?”

Belle nodded vigorously, keeping her head bent low. “Please, Belle, let me look at you,” he crooned.

Belle begrudgingly lifted her head. Raul gently swept away the curtain of hair hiding her scar. She flinched as his gently traced his fingers over the rigid crevice along her face. “You are still the fairest in all the realms to me, wife. Lovely and spellbinding since our first ride together in the carriage.”

She shuddered as he pressed his lips against her scar, lingering and worshiping her with his mouth. A strangled sob left her throat as she wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him desperately as she wept. “So beautiful and all mine,” he spoke lovingly into her ear as she cried.

Eventually she allowed him to lay her down on the bear skin rug in front of the hearth. He languidly explored her body, whispering in sweet love tones to her within the dark. He kissed the curve of her abdomen where their child dwelt, kissed all the way past her navel and buried his head between her thighs until she was begging him to connect their bodies together in sweet, harmonious exhilaration. In the heart of the library, she allowed him to love her back to life.


	5. Chapter 5

Though, Belle, had fallen back into her husband's arms, she was reluctant to face the world. She was afraid of becoming a spectacle – a chink in the king's regime. She felt like an eyesore, no matter how many times he praised her beauty. Just because he loved her didn't mean the rest of Albannach would. Belle resigned herself to her library once more, purposefully keeping herself out of the public eye and avoiding mirrors at all costs. They only reminded her of how revolting she truly was. Instead, she focused her attention on the baby, and the nearing of its birth. Her protruding abdomen made her feel heavy and insecure, though Raul still took her to bed every night. He seemed to desire her even more since she was carrying his child. The only time she felt beautiful or cherished was when she was wrapped in his arms.

One day she had brazenly wandered into the solace of the gardens. They were private, and she didn't fear meeting anyone there. Raul was in a royal council meeting with the other nobles and bishops. She found a vacant bench and sat down, resting her tired, swollen ankles. The royal physician had told her the baby could come any day, and she and her husband excitedly anticipated its arrival. 

She jolted when she heard steady footfalls approaching her. She snapped her head back, looking for the party responsible for their intrusion. “What a lovely day it is,” A feminine voice resounded from close by. 

Belle quickly rose to her feet. “Who goes there!?” she demanded. 

Suddenly a woman with curly ginger hair and verdant irises stepped from behind a rose bush. She was adorned in an emerald day dress, and Belle sensed a regal air about her. “Sorry for my intrusion, your majesty,” the young woman remarked apologetically, dipping her head in a low curtsey. 

“It's alright, I should be going,” Belle quickly excused herself. The redhead tilted her head, analyzing the queen in a way which unnerved her. The woman's green eyes fixated on her baby bump, shining with envy. 

“It's amazing, really, how you ended up with all of this,” The redhead snarled in disgust, flourishing to the castle looming behind them. 

“Excuse me?” Belle stammered in disbelief.

The redhead smirked. “I guess he never told you about me and our little rendezvous. It started right after the queen's death. He was going to marry me, but then the prince, well you know what happened with that!” The woman flourished her hand again, making Belle's gut roil with bile. 

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Belle said, her mind swimming with heaviness. 

The woman shrugged. “I suppose it doesn't matter, your majesty. You still ended up with the crown, and now his little spawn is incubating inside of you. I bet the pompous fool even spouted the same nonsense he filled my head with, hm? That he adores you, and there's no one on earth he'd rather spend his life with,” she replied mockingly. 

“How dare you, you insolent, woman! How dare you speak to a queen so brashly! How-”

The other woman rolled her eyes. “Oh, please! We all know you're from a miniscule territory that's barely a smudge on the map! You have no powerful armies at your disposal, no famed title. I still don't understand why he chose you! I heard rumors of your beauty, but it seems those rumors were false. Your skin is coarse and craggy! Has the king gone blind!? Perhaps he's mad!” she remarked insensitively, proverbially stabbing her in the chest. 

Belle tore away from the gardens, hot tears blurring her vision. When she made it to her haven, she collapsed onto the chaise – crying bitterly.

After the council meeting, the first mission Raul had in mind was to find his beloved. His heart faltered when she wasn't in their chambers. The hour was growing late, and he assumed she would have been in bed by now. He lit a candle and made his way to the only other place she'd likely be. The library was dark, and he could barely make out her figure curled up on the chaise. 

“Belle?” He spoke her name gently. 

His heart lurched when he heard her sniffle. Had she been crying? He closed the distance between them, lightly touching her shoulder. She stiffened beneath his touch. “Belle, what is it, darling? Why aren't you already in bed?”

Belle shrugged beneath the dim candlelight, facing away from him. “Met one of your old flames today. She didn't seem to be over you, and I wonder why you failed to mention any other lovers. You told me you hadn't shared your heart or bed with anyone since Milah.”

“I haven't! Who was this witch!? What else did she have to say to you!?” He snarled angrily.

“She didn't give her name, but she couldn't seem to conceive why you'd chosen me over her. Apparently I'm from a nameless kingdom, and the only right I have to the throne is your heir incubating inside of me,” she scoffed, disgusted with herself.

“Zelena!” He growled, spitting her name like poison on his tongue. 

“What's your history with her?” Belle remarked glacially. 

He turned his attention toward her, his countenance softening. “We kissed in the corridor one night after both having too much ale. That was it, there never was nor will there ever be an us. Don't let that vile witch get in your head, sweetheart. You should know you're the only one who truly holds my heart. Milah is the only other woman who's shared my bed, and our coupling ceased not long after Neal's birth. She took other lovers, and I stopped caring. You are the only woman I've ever truly loved, and I'll love you long after I breathe my dying breath.”

Belle reached for him, knotting their fingers together. “I'm sorry for doubting you, Raul.”

Raul shook his head. “It's alright, sweetheart. It's why I'm here, to talk these matters through. Tomorrow I'll have the gardener set some rat traps. I intend to keep the vermin out of my plants,” he jested. 

Belle smacked his arm playfully. “You will do no such thing!”

He placed his hand over his, heart feigning shock. “You forget I'm the king, dearest, and I shall do as I please!”

“No, no, husband, you're thinking too small! What you really should use are some bear traps,” she countered, grinning deviously. 

Raul barked with laughter. “Who knew my wee wife could be so dastardly!” 

Belle chuckled, grabbing her abdomen when she felt a surge of pain. Water seeped between her thighs, dampening her knickers. “Raul, I believe my water just broke!” 

Raul's eyes grew wide with surprise. “Here! Let me help you to bed! I'll send for the physician!” he commanded, his brogue thickening – tinged with panic and excitement. The baby was coming, and the kingdom would soon welcome a new member of the royal family of Albannach.


	6. Chapter 6

Belle's labor was long and excruciating. Raul paced the halls with baited breath as the physician and healers prepared the queen for the delivery of their child. Sixteen tumultuous hours passed before the physician peeped his head out of the door to make the anticipated announcement. “Your Highness, the queen has given birth to a healthy baby boy, and both are doing splendidly.”

Raul's eyes glimmered with excitement as the physician escorted him to his wife and newborn son. Belle's eyes reflected weariness but also motherly pride as she cradled the squirming infant within her arms. “Belle,” he spoke her name ardently, gaining her attention.

She gazed up at him with tear dimmed eyes. “Would you like to meet your son, Raul?”

Raul sauntered to her side, kissing her crown of hair affectionately. “You did exemplary, my love,” he praised.

Belle smiled fondly at him. “He's so beautiful, isn't he? I can't believe we created something so uniquely perfect,” she sighed blissfully.

He nodded. “He needs a name.”

She gazed up at him expectantly. “And what would you like to call your son, Your Majesty?”

Raul shook his head. “Today I'd like to break royal tradition, just this once.”

Belle furrowed a delicate brow. 'What are you saying, my love?”

“I'm saying I'd like to bestow the honor of naming him on his mother – the queen. What's his name going to be, my delicate bloom?” he decreed, startling her.

Belle's eyes filled with tears at this unexpected honor and privilege her husband was gifting her with. It was unheard of for a mother to name her child, especially a queen. That honor belonged solely to the king, and yet here her husband was unabashedly breaking tradition. “His name shall be Gideon,” she decided.

“What a strong name for such a handsome little fellow,” Raul cooed, gingerly lifting the infant from her arms. She observed her husband gazing at their bairn with pure, unadulterated love. She knew within her heart their son would grow up to be a strong ruler, because he had an astounding example to live up to.

Despite the joyous and successful birth of the new prince, trouble seemed to brew in the air. She quietly resigned herself to dutifully caring for their child, though the queen was usually expected to hire a governess. She was having none of it. Rumors spurred within the kingdom of a coming war. It was inevitable, Albannach, would be expected to help its weaker allies secure a proper victory.

Belle wasn't immune to the ill effects of war, and she knew the king had fought valiantly in battles before. Before she'd reached her twentieth birthday, a deadly siege of Albannach's war ships had drawn the king from his bed in the middle of the night. Belle barely had time to kiss him goodbye before he was donning his armor and mounting his stallion.

  
“When will you return to me?” She pleaded, her eyes filled with trepidation.

“I know not, my love, but I do promise my return,” he vowed, bruising her lips in desperation.

She threw her arms around him, wishing their rib cages would cave into each other, fusing their hearts together in place. The queen knew in that moment she'd rather die than lose her one true love. “Please come back to me, safe and sound,” she pleaded against the shell of his ear.

“Your love will keep me warm on lonely nights, and when I do return, I expect a proper homecoming,” he remarked suggestively.

Belle gave him a watery chuckle. “Come back to me quickly, my king.”

The day, Raul, and his men returned to Albannach, a span of nearly three years had already passed. Though he'd sent countless letters to Belle, they'd abruptly stopped six months ago. He was furious and wounded. He felt himself slowly succumbing to the madness without hearing nary a word from her. It seemed his entire court was silent about the matter of the queen's whereabouts. He'd thundered into the castle, demanding an audience with his wife.

“Your Highness, you've been gone for nearly three years, and well, you might not find the circumstances favorable,” Jefferson had forewarned him.

“What are you talking about, you insolent fool!? Where is Belle!?” He bellowed.

Jefferson squeezed his eyes shut. “In the nursery.”

“With Gideon?” Raul surmised.

“Not just, Gideon, Your Majesty,” Jefferson spoke quietly, making the king's heart race with suspense.

“What are you saying! Out with it man!” Raul tensed, feeling his head pound with anxiety.

“While you were off fighting, the castle was seized. Her Majesty was so brave, she sacrificed herself to the Southern Kingdom's commander – Prince Hans. He threatened to burn the castle and everyone in it to the ground, unless she gave herself willingly to him. She used her body to save us all, but there were consequences. You see, there was a child – a girl. The queen has given birth to an illegitimate child. We urged her to send her away, but she refused. It's why you haven't received a letter in so long. The queen is ashamed of herself, for what she had to do,” Jefferson confessed.

“And you didn't think to notify me!? Where is the bastard!? I'll rip him limb from limb for what he's done!” The King howled, his voice echoing within the corridors.

Jefferson shook his head. “The message wouldn't have reached you in time. The queen, she, she was brave. And Hans is dead. His ship is at the bottom of the sea according to certain reports.”

Raul shoved past him, bounding for the nursery. When he wrenched open the door, he found her, cradling the child he had no knowledge of only an hour ago. He observed her in silence. She stood, gazing at him – her eyes filled with the weight of the world. He crossed the room silently, reaching out to graze her ravaged cheek with his weathered hand.

“I know this wasn't the homecoming you were expecting.” She swallowed hard, her accent thickening with emotion.

“I heard of your noble sacrifice, and I couldn't ask for a more honorable woman to rule by my side.” His voice cracked with emotion as he pulled her into his arms, their reunion long overdue. She wept into his chest, and he trembled – wracked with wave after wave of emotion.

When she was finally able to compose herself, she spoke of the child still resting within her arms. “I named her Tilly. Despite being conceived out of such painful circumstances, I couldn't just give her up.”

Raul stepped back, gazing intently at her. “And I would never ask you to do such a thing. She's a part of you, and I'm sure I'll find a place in my heart to love her just as much.”

“I want you to get to know both of your children. You've been gone so long, and -” She hiccuped, stifling back a sob.

He touched her shoulders, shaking his head. “I'm never leaving your side again, until death do us part. No matter what I'm staying, and we're going to rebuild our lives from the ashes these unforeseen circumstances have created.”

Though the past three years had been bleak, and they'd been separated by war and heartache, the king found room within his heart to love one more – a daughter which didn't derive from his seed, but one he would grow to love indeed.


	7. Chapter 7

Despite being reunited after so long, Belle still shied away from Raul's touch. She'd expressed how ruined she'd felt since her encounter with the prince of the Southern Kingdom. The king was patient with his wife, and though he'd reassured her many times that she wasn't ruined, her eyes would grow melancholy, and she would simply reply: “I'm sorry but you just don't understand.”

Oh but how he wanted to – longed for her to lay her heart bare before him and strip away the pain. She remained guarded despite his best efforts to coerce her into opening up to him. He secretly feared the intimacy in their marriage was irreparable, and he had an inkling, Belle, was ridden with guilt.

An idea struck him late one evening while laying in their bed. She faced away from him, soft snores erupting from her throat. They'd both endured long bouts of separation for the last three years, and it was time to take a reprieve from court life and Albannach. 

The next morning at breakfast, Raul had decided it was time to broach the subject. “Belle, I've been thinking we should take a recess from court life for awhile. Perhaps we could travel to Adolaysia, there's beautiful countryside there and -”

The queen shook her head in disagreement “I'd rather not leave the castle, Your Majesty.”

Raul blinked owlishly, noting how her hands trembled when she stirred her tea. “I don't for the life of me understand why not.”

Belle met his gaze, her eyes hunted as if she were about ready to bolt if he made her continue this conversation. He reached for her hand, steadying her. “Please help me understand. I've been patient with the process, Belle, and I just want to help you recover. Spending time away from here would seem as if it would aid you in your healing.” 

The queen shook her head. “I can't leave Tilly and Gideon here alone, something could happen. There might be another incident and -.” She screwed her eyes shut, clamping down on her tongue before she said too much. 

“What else could happen? Has someone threatened you or the children!? Just let me know, and I'll have their head for it!” He thundered with vexation. 

The beauty trembled violently as the words tumbled from her mouth. “The night he arrived, we were all tucked away safely in our beds. Many men accompanied his guard, and he boasted of more that would come and overtake our fortresses if he wasn't given proper compensation. He eluded to worldly comforts and carnal pleasure. His eyes landed on – Marissa – one of the kitchen girls. He said he'd have her first, but she was just twelve. I couldn't bear to let him soil her, so I volunteered myself. I told him a queen's body was certainly worth more than a pubescent maid. He practically salivated at my offer. He'd threatened to burn the entire castle down with everyone in it if I didn't obey. That night, he took me to bed, and he kept chanting the name of a girl I was vaguely familiar with. I endured it by thinking of you, of us. When he'd gone I sent message to the courier, to warn the young princess of Arendelle. I imagined he was speaking of her, though I knew not of their history. Apparently there was something to it because Queen Elsa struck down his forces and his ships. I rested easy for awhile, knowing he could no longer harm anyone. But then my health took a turn for the worse, I became violently ill, and then I knew...I knew his seed had taken root in me. I cried for months, feeling as if I'd betrayed you. I wanted to write you, but I just couldn't will myself to pick up the quill. I feel as if the entire experience has hollowed me out, left me champing at the bit. When you touch me or reach for me in our bed, a wave of guilt consumes me. I feel as if I've betrayed you, Raul, which is why I'd like you to properly divorce me. I'm an adulterer and -”

“I would rather die than live without you, Belle. You're my wife, and I pledged to love you until the end of time. You are a bloody hero, don't you dare accuse yourself of such a heinous act! If I could I would wipe it all away – purge the entire experience from your mind. Please, let me show you how much I still love you,” he pleaded, raising his hands to cup her face.

“My body is different now. It has scars, and I'm fuller in certain places,” she remarked insecurely. 

“That just means there's more of you for me to love, sweetheart,” he countered, ebbing away her insecurities.

Belle, though reluctant, allowed the king to take her to his bed. A dam burst the first time he touched her in ages. She'd buried her need for him beneath her shame and guilt, but she slowly felt herself coming alive back in his arms. A deeper intimacy was cultivated between them as they sought each other for their healing. His languid pace and loving reassurances made her weep – weep for this sweet, loving and gentle man she'd been blessed with. Though he had a lion's heart, his touch was as gentle as a lamb.


	8. Chapter 8

Raul placed the delicate, sapphire encrusted circlet on the queen's head. Belle gazed in the mirror, reaching up to gently touch the crown. “This is certainly more than I was expecting for a fifth wedding anniversary present,” she gasped in awe.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, searing a sensual kiss against her nape. “It belonged to my great-grandmother, Estella. I met her once as a young lad. She had an elegance about her even in her old age. I wanted you to have it because you remind me of her.”

She turned in his arms, gazing at him funnily. “And how's that?”

Raul pursed his lips into a small, thoughtful smile. “Well, she was a strong ruler. Her husband died before he was thirty, and she never remarried. She was a queen in her own right, mainly because she was able to keep peace in Albannach for nearly fifty years. That's a legacy in itself, but I wouldn't stop there. She kept her subjects fed during a brutal famine, and she made it her priority that everyone – even the lowest pauper learned how to read and write.”

Belle marveled at his speech. “She sounds extraordinary.”

Raul nodded. “There was none quite like her, just as there is none quite like you, my precious Belle.”

Belle reveled in his touch, sighing sweetly. “I hope we still have many years together.”

Raul kissed her crown of hair reverently. “Yes, years filled with peace and happiness.”

Belle smiled against his chest. “So how should we spend our anniversary? The children are with the capable Widow Lucas. And your schedule has been cleared.”

“How about a few days at my summer palace? We could spend time making up for lost time,” he rumbled suggestively in her ear.

She gazed up at him, eclipsing him with her radiance. “I would enjoy that very much.”

It had taken several months for Belle to come alive again, like a butterfly with crumpled, damp wings. He'd used his love as a balm to her wounded soul. He wasn't much, but he offered himself freely to her – gifted her with all the love which had been rejected before she ever came along. She took his love and wrapped it around herself like a regal robe, parading through the courts with it – acting as if it was the most beautiful gift she'd been given. She displayed his love like an ornament, her countenance adorned with it for all to marvel at. Raul knew, despite what others may have perceived about him, Belle saw his lion heart, instead of his claws. How could such a young and tender lamb love such an ferocious beast? He would never comprehend why she still chose to stand by his side.

The summer palace was a welcoming reprieve, they both had desperately desired but buried under their sense of duty and obligation. The guards stayed at a distance, as the king had commanded them. Pockets of privacy were rare, and Raul planned to take advantage of these few days of isolation with his wife.

“Do you see the fountain out in the courtyard? I thought you might find that part of the estate intriguing!” Raul gushed excitedly.

Belle giggled at his enthusiasm. “Oh I do, and it's given me a wicked idea.”

“Oh?” He gazed questionably at her, his heart hammering in anticipation.

Belle winked seductively at him, traipsing past him. “Not now, later.”

The king observed his beauty round the corner, wondering what she'd been hinting at. He'd immediately forgotten their prior conversation at dinner. They'd engaged in a heated game of chess, spent time eating a modest dinner in companionable silence, and drifted off to sleep in each others' arms shortly after.

He awoke in the middle of the night, instinctively reaching for her. His eyes opened wide when he grasped only empty space. He leaped from his bed, grabbing his discarded trousers on the floor. He wandered barefoot through the corridors, searching for his beloved. He stopped in awe of the moon, visible before him through the glass panes. He glanced down at the fountain, surprised to see the queen's milky, white flesh bathed in moonlight. He bounded down the hall and out into the moonlight to join her. She was standing stark naked under the fountain, grinning mischievously at him.

“You found me, your majesty.” She smiled radiantly at him, holding out her hand – bidding him to come closer.

He removed his trousers, kicking them away. He stepped into the fountain, shuddering at the sensation of the cool water, pooling around his ankles. The night was balmy and humid, but he was certain the sudden surge of warmth throughout his body had little to do with the temperature.

Beads of water clung to her skin, giving her an ethereal glow beneath the moon. She trembled when he pulled her flush against him. He bent down to claim her mouth, allowing his hands to card freely through her silken tresses.

Belle cupped him gently with her supple hand, eliciting a hiss from his throat. She stroked him until he was throbbing, begging for release. He quickly snatched her hand away, hoisting her into his arms. She gave a surprised gasp as he led them away from the fountain, laying her on a bed of plush grass. He towered over her, kissing down her neck – lingering at her pulse point. She shunted against him, making her need aware. He opened her legs, connecting their bodies in the way she most desired. Under the soft glow of the moonlight, the king and queen made a sacred vow only their hearts understood.


	9. Chapter 9

Ten Years Later...

Belle admired her six month pregnant belly in the mirror. Her round, protruding abdomen wasn't the only thing she saw. Age lines were beginning to permeate her features. She was only thirty-two, but some days she felt far older. The last ten years had been kind and generous to them for the most part. Gideon had just turned thirteen, and was thirsty for every bit of knowledge he could get his hands on. Tilly was the jewel in her father's crown, and he adored her immensely, though she wasn't of his blood. The way he greeted her and gazed at her with such pride, one would have never known she wasn't sired from his very loins. Though she hadn't quite reached lady-hood yet, Tilly had a love for politics. The king fueled her love by encouraging her to study the law, even as a youth, he'd given her books to read.

The God of the heavens must have known how weary they were, so for the span of ten years there had been no other children. In the back of her mind, Belle wondered if her barrenness was because the vile southern prince had poisoned her womb. Despite her paranoia, she'd fallen ill with violent morning sickness. The pregnancy had been confirmed shortly after by the royal physician. There was a grand feast prepared in celebration for their unexpected jubilee.

As the time of the feast neared, Belle held her breath in abeyance – expecting some travesty to befall them as it had the last time there was an announcement of a pregnancy. However there was none, the feast commenced as it was supposed to, and Belle's heart beat more peacefully since that day.

There was always calm before the storm, and Belle hadn't anticipated the next oncoming blow. Jefferson was the one who had came running down the hall one afternoon, his face ghastly pale. “Your Highness! Queen Majesty!” He bellowed throughout the corridors. Belle tore her gaze away from the mirror, meeting him in the hallway.

“Jefferson? What is it? Why have you called for me and not the king!?” She inquired with baited breath.

“The king, he was on a hunt. A great boar gorged him through his left leg. The wound is deep and gaping. We don't know if he will recover, or if, if this will be his demise.” Jefferson's voice quaked as he spoke.

“Where is he!?” Belle managed to say.

“In the healer's quarters. They're doing all they can. He's unconscious, and barely breathing,” Jefferson lamented.

“May I go to him?” Belle asked, her voice seeming to come from another source. She felt like her spirit had momentarily separated itself from her body as she dashed to the healers' quarters – her mind whirling with every last shared word between them the morning before dawn.

~X~

Raul turned to her, gold flecks dancing in his sable depths. “If the baby is a girl, I want you to name her Rose,” he remarked thoughtfully.

Belle blinked owlishly at him. “Raul, you'll be at the birth, you can name her that yourself, you silly man,” she countered, reaching up to stroke his face ardently.

His distinct age lines crinkled into a gentle smile. “I want you to name her rose because when I think of how we started, this entire marriage – it was nothing more than a delicate bloom. I didn't know if it would wither or flourish, but it has certainly blossomed into something beautiful.”

Belle placed his hand over her abdomen so he could feel their child kick. "And how are you so certain it will be a girl, hm?”

“I just have an inkling, sweetheart,” he replied, resting his hand against her protruding belly.

~X~

Belle's heart leaped in her throat as she imagined the final moment of normalcy between them, and she was reminded of how fragile life truly was. The trip to the healers' quarters felt like it took hours, instead of minutes. “What's the verdict? Please, tell me!” She shouted at one of the healers.

“He is stable, and we've stifled the bleeding. The king is lucky, for it could have been much worse,” a woman – Dorothy answered.

“Much worse? What does that entail?” Belle remarked fretfully.

“It means, Your Grace, that he isn't out of the woods yet. There's still the risk of infection, but I do believe he will make a full recovery. His leg is mangled though, and I'm not sure we can save it,” Dorothy reported, leaving her hopeful yet despondent.

“What can I do!? Pray, tell me, please!” Belle pleaded with the healer.

“Pray his excellency survives this, go keep yourself well rested. The king may have a lion heart, but if his little lamb is maimed, his roar will likely vanish. You're his lifeblood, your majesty, and the king desires you to stay in excellent health. If anything changes, or if he awakens, we will come fetch you,” Dorothy vowed.

Belle nodded somberly, defeated, returning to her quarters. She felt the fight had gone out of her as she waited for the verdict of her husband's current state of health. As the day yawned into evening, Belle found herself pacing their chambers. It was Jefferson which alerted her near midnight.

“Your Grace, I know it's late, but I figured you would want to hear the news. The king has awakened, and he's been stricken with fever, but don't fret, the healers said it was to be expected,” the king's adviser remarked.

“May I go to him?” Belle inquired, her eyes rimmed with worry.

“Yes, once he awoke, you were the first person he was calling for,” Jefferson supplied.

  
Belle draped her cloak around her shoulders to conceal her modesty. She followed Jefferson down the long stretch of hallway until they'd arrived at the healers' quarters. She found her husband, surrounded by a throng of healers.

“Please, leave us,” she commanded them.

They bowed reverently before seeing themselves out. Raul's tired, frantic eyes lit up when he spotted her. She sauntered to his side, clasping his weathered hand gently. “Kind Belle, beautiful Belle, pretty blue-eyed Belle,” he praised.

Belle blushed prettily at his compliments. “You're in good spirits for one who's had quite the accident,” she said, attempting to humor them both before she burst into tears.

“Mhmm, I saw Neal. He said it wasn't the time. Said I needed to stay here with Belle,” he hummed dreamily.

Belle's throat constricted at the mention of the deceased prince. “What else did he tell you?” she managed to say.

“Said I was right, that it's a girl,” he mumbled, his eyes growing heavy with sleep.

She bent down, whispering a kiss against his fevered brow. “Rest easy, my love. I'll be here when you awaken.”

“So soft, so pretty, my precious flower. Can't wait to hold you in my arms,” he muttered dreamily before drifting back off to sleep. Belle stayed with him, rubbing soothing circles along his wrist before departing for the evening. She wondered about his encounter with Neal, wondered if he'd nearly stepped through death's door. She pondered of her own mother she'd lost so many years prior. She thought of how fortunate their children were to know both their mother and their father.

Belle spent her afternoons in the healers' quarters, watching her beloved sleep or engage in partial conversations with her until he drifted back off from the pain tonics he was given. She remembered her gut roiling with bile the day the physician told her they would be amputating his leg from the waist down. It was the only way to spare his life, so Belle had begrudgingly drifted away to her chambers as they administered the powerful pain stimulant to the king. It sentenced him to a deep, numbing slumber while they sawed off his leg. She wept bitterly when Jefferson had brought her the news. The procedure was over, and the king was in recovery.

Once news of the king's tragedy had spread all over Albannach, a young man and his wife came knocking one day. The queen had been disagreeable about receiving visitors. She was heavily pregnant and was expected to deliver any day. Jefferson had been insistent though, promising it was worth her while, so Belle had reluctantly allowed her ladies to dress her. She planned to humor the couple, and make a quick visit of it, however she was struck with awe when she met the pair in the throne room. The young man and his wife bowed in reverence to their queen.

“Your Majesty, it's such a great honor to be in your presence today,” the man spoke, but Belle barely registered what he'd said, for her eyes were transfixed on the girl – a wave of familiarity sweeping over her.

“You, I recognize you from somewhere,” she acknowledged the young woman, pining for the correct memory.

The young woman bowed, her honey curls escaping her bonnet. “Yes, your grace, I was a young girl when we first crossed paths. You saved me from being devoured from that ferocious wolf, and this may come as a surprise, but you also saved my older sister as well. She worked in the kitchens when the palace was seized. Her name was Marissa.”

Belle placed her hands over her mouth, gasping in consternation. Throwing royal etiquette out the door, she reached for the girl, wrapping her in her arms. She sobbed hard against her shoulder – the girl unable to keep her tears in check as well. She hugged the sovereign, causing the guards to instinctively reach for their swords, for no one dared touch the queen. However no one bothered to brandish them as Belle cupped the girl's face in her hands. “Please, tell me how your sister fairs and why you decided to come here.”

The young woman smiled tearfully at the queen. “My sister fairs just fine. She has a husband with a fine trade, and they have two rambunctious boys.”

“And what has brought you here today -”

“Pardon, your majesty, but my name is Morraine. I've came here because my husband and I, well we have a gift for the king. You see, he has a talent for carving things out of wood, and when we heard of the king's accident, he set to work, crafting something special for him,” she explained.

Belle gazed at the young man, aware he was holding a long object – wrapped in a shawl. “And what does he have for the king?”

The young man anxiously unwrapped the cloth, boasting a beautifully carved prosthetic. “Not to sound presumptuous, your highness, but I made this for the king. My sweet Morraine has told me of your courage and fealty to your people, and I wanted to give back in some small way. I know it doesn't compensate for the sacrifices you've made, but I wanted to try.”

Belle smiled tearfully at him. “Your gift is spectacular, and I'm sure the king will be very grateful for it. Now, why don't you both come and join me for afternoon tea?”

“We'd be obliged!” They remarked simultaneously, making her chortle with delight.

“Come now, you both, we have much to discuss,” she stated invitingly, leading the pair into the heart of the castle – her sacred library. They conversed about family, and Belle inquired more about his trade, interested in apprenticing him to create more of these splendid prosthetics, as he'd made for the king.

That night she slept fitfully, though he wasn't able to share her bed. She knew the kind couple's gift would be the very thing to lift his spirits.

~X~

“Belle, I look bloody ridiculous in this contraption,” Raul bemoaned months after his nearly fatal accident.

Belle cradled a sleeping Rose in her arms. “It's supposed to help you walk. It's just something you'll have to grow accustomed to.”

A violet red rose high in his cheeks. “I feel so unappealing, a wounded and weak monarch.”

“You are no such thing, Raul,” Belle scoffed. “You're a mighty warrior, a benevolent king.”

Raul sighed. “I'm glad you see me as such, sweetheart. However, at the moment I feel like a weak cripple.”

Belle was about to make a retort when someone loudly cleared their throat. They simultaneously turned to see, Jefferson, standing a stone's throw away. “I'm sorry to barge in unannounced, your majesties, but one of the dignitaries from Astyn is here to see you, your excellency,” Jefferson informed him.

The king nodded curtly. “Tell him I'll be with him momentarily.”

Jefferson bowed, leaving without another word.

Raul turned to Belle, kissing her quickly. “I'll see you tonight?” He queried more than stated.

“Of course,” she reassured, waving as he departed. Belle sighed, attempting to recount the last time they'd been intimate. It had certainly been earlier during her pregnancy. She felt she'd healed enough to properly make love, but her husband hadn't mentioned or initiated anything since he'd recovered from his accident. She presumed it was because he'd lost his dignity and worthiness to be loved since he'd lost his limb. Though it was entirely ridiculous in her mind for him to feel this way, she recounted back to her run in with the wolf – how undesirable she'd felt after scarring up her lovely face. Raul had loved her so tenderly during her weakest moments, now it was her turn to remind him just how deeply loved and alluring he still was.

It was late the next evening when, Belle, decided to enact her plan. Raul had been spending several hours each day sulking in the throne room – where he claimed he still 'felt' like a monarch, so if the throne room was where he felt the most kingly then that's where his queen would meet him.

Belle had made sure she'd banished all of the guards and Jefferson before greeting him. She wore her royal queenly robes and satin slippers when she traipsed into the throne room – her curls unbound, cascading down her back in silken waves.

“Belle, what are you doing here?” Raul inquired, furrowing an inqusitive brow.

The queen's smile broadened as she approached him, kneeling down in front of him. He was rendered speechless as she undid the laces in his boots, tossing them aside. She pulled down his trousers next, casting them away. The ugly wooden appendage appeared, but Belle paid it no mind as she pressed her lips against the inside of his left thigh, where wood minced with mangled flesh. The king released a strangled groan as he threaded his fingers through her silken waves of chestnut.

His gasp resounded throughout the throne room when she put her mouth on him, worshiping him from root to tip. He nearly wept for how tender she was being with him. “What if someone walks in on us!?” he panicked, pushing her away.

Belle pushed back, continuing her delicate ministrations along his throbbing shaft. “They won't, I sent them all away,” she remarked in a heady breath. His head felt like it was about to explode when she positioned herself onto his lap. His jaw went slack when he realized she was bare underneath her robes. He reached inside her robe, pawing at her breast as she lifted herself up to take him fully inside of her. He firmly gripped her hips as she moved against him.

“You feel so good husband, filling me, making my body reach new heights,” she gasped, rocking eagerly against him. He kissed her hard on the mouth, bucking his hips into her – his mind fogging with pleasure. He grunted as she milked him of his release, sending him over the edge. She continued to rock against him, collapsing in his arms, her robe half hanging open.

“What ever gave you this idea?” He gasped weakly.

“Wanted to make you feel like the king you still are, wanted to make you feel worthy and loved. You said this room is the only place that makes you still feel like a king. I desired to show you, give you pleasure in the place you feel most regal,” she breathed hotly against his ear.

He draped the robe over her, burying his face in the crook of her neck – inhaling her invigorating scent deeply. “You truly leave me undone, do you realize how precious you are to me?”

“And do you realize how precious you are to me, my love?” she repeated.

He tearfully nodded. “After the love and reverence you've shown me today, I have no reason to doubt you ever again.”

“You had no reason to in the first place,” she said, kissing him again. He pulled her closer, intricately exploring her mouth, allowing her to make her his again and again throughout the remainder of the night.


	10. Chapter 10

Twenty Years Later...

“How long do you think father has left?” The brunette inquired quietly to her mother in the darkened corridor.

The queen smiled forlornly at her daughter. “Perhaps a week, maybe a few days.”

Rose admired the woman before her – chestnut hair streaked with gray. Wise blue eyes reflected melancholy and grief for the man she was about to lose in the next room. Her beloved parents had showered her with more love than she was able to conceive in a lifetime, and oh, the way they'd loved each other radiated with a depth she was unable to measure.

Rose reached for her mother's hands, clasping them gently within her own. “Mother, I know he was so proud to be our father, to be Albannach's king, to be your husband,” Rose declared with such fondness.

Belle reached for her delicate Rose – their baby girl, the final addition to their family. She cupped her face tenderly in her aged hands. “My dear girl, you were born during a time when hope was nearly lost. Did you know your father chose your name? He put a lot of thought into your moniker. He wanted to name you Rose, because he said our marriage began as a delicate bloom. He didn't know whether it would wilt or blossom into something beautiful. Oh, how our love flourished, just as you have daughter. My lovely Rose, about to be wed to the Prince of Durand.”

Rose blushed prettily at her mother's compliment. “I had hoped Father could be there, to give me a proper send off.”

“Oh, he wouldn't miss it for the world, my darling. He'll just be watching us from another view,” Belle promised.

Rose smiled tearfully at her mother. “Yes, he'll be with us in spirit.”

Belle always relished visits with her youngest daughter. She was the final link left of their love, and the queen knew it wouldn't be long before he slipped away from her forever. Gideon had been crowned king regent several months ago, when, Raul, had fallen ill. Their son was leading their beloved country of Albannach triumphantly, and she couldn't have been more proud of their son. Tilly had found her place at court, back in Avonlea. When her father had passed, she'd been crowned as duchess of her tiny, former dwelling. Rose would be marrying a refined prince within a few short weeks. It seemed the world had graciously secured their children within their proper places, but where did that leave her? Soon she would be a widow, but she knew this day would arrive. Twenty years spanned between their births, and it was inevitable he would go first.

Belle quietly opened the door of his chamber. He'd been bed fast for weeks now, too weak to move. The disease which afflicted him slowly ate away the muscle, making the bones brittle. He was lithe and so fragile within her grasp. Despite his illness, he always had a smile for her.

“Thought you'd set me up,” Raul jested, coughing weakly.

  
Belle shook her head, standing at his bedside. “And why would you think such a thing? You know my visits are habitual. I arrive at the same time everyday,” she played along.

“Thought a younger, more handsome nobleman came and stole you away,” he chuckled dryly.

Belle frowned at him. “I told you, I'm not remarrying. Our marriage has brought me more joy, than I ever thought possible. There's nothing to compare to it.”

Raul reached up, stroking her cheek lovingly. “You've brought me much joy. You took a withered heart and breathed life back into it. I planned to die in my isolation, but you changed everything for me.”

“And you, you taught me all about unconditional love. Kept me strong during the hard times, when I was ready to drown, you lifted me above the current,” she declared, reveling in his touch.

“35 years, Belle, you gave me 35 amazing years,” he respired, struggling to speak.

“Yes, my love, now rest,” she crooned.

“Please, stay with me tonight. Let me hold you like old time's sake,” he barely whispered.

Belle nodded. “Of course, my king.”

That night, Raul cradled her in his arms. He buried his face in her nape, and Belle fought to stay awake, so she could listen to his breathing. His breaths were becoming more shallow as the night drudged on. She knew his life force was waning. He was fighting to hold on for her.

“Please, Raul, go home to Neal. Rest easy, we'll all be okay. I will be okay,” she reassured him within the stillness of the night, her accent thickening with emotion.

She felt him pull her closer, his breath barely a whisper against her skin. “Love you, sweet Belle. My fair, delicate bloom, see you soon.”

His final words rang hollow in her ears. She pulled away from him, gently brushing silver hair from his eyes. She bent down to kiss his warm lips, committing the feel of them to memory before they turned cold and lifeless. All of Albannach heard the queen's agonized sobs echo throughout the kingdom, like somber church bells in the distance.

The funeral was hard for Belle, and everyone could see the grief on her careworn face. They'd buried him within the gardens, next to the roses. It had been her choice. She visited his grave every day, took her morning tea with him. Her faithful ritual continued, until her hair turned pure silver and her cheeks sunk in from old age. The queen never remarried, for she was perfectly content with having her one and only.

Rose eventually coerced her mother into traveling to Durand to live out the finality of her life. She worried over her mother, who was becoming more weak and feeble as the days progressed.

The span of years she'd been without him felt like mere days. Time was a fickle concept. Some days a memory would sneak up on her, nearly bringing her to her knees. Those memories were beginning to bleed together, and she was having a hard time grasping what was and what had been. One moment he was gone, and the next he was lying next to her – telling her a comical tale or whispering in hushed love tones within her ear. Those memories kept her warm and safe. One night, when she reached for him, he was there, but he didn't look the age he'd been when he'd passed or when they'd married. He looked more youthful, and Belle wondered if it was a cruel trick of the light or if he was really with her.

“Am I dreaming again?” she asked him.

“No, my love, I told you I would see you soon,” he reassured her.

“How long has it been since you told me that? It feels like it was just yesterday but could have also been a million years ago,” she wondered aloud.

“It's been thirty years, Belle. Time to come home now,” he replied gently.

“You promise you won't leave me again?” she remarked hesitantly.

“We'll never be parted where we're going. There are no goodbyes there,” he said, taking her hand and leading her away from the bed. When she gazed down, her skin was no longer wrinkled. She appeared fresh, clean, and pure. When she gazed back, she saw her aged body lying on the bed.

Raul gingerly turned her face back towards him. “There's no need to look back, Belle. There's nothing left for you here.” The queen nodded, following her king into the light.

The next morning, Rose found her mother resting peacefully, her hands clasped over her breast. She was smiling, and that's how Rose knew they were together again.

The End


End file.
